


The Last Dragonrider

by uponeternity



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, F/M, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Pre-Lord of The Rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:31:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5830993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uponeternity/pseuds/uponeternity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My mother used to use that phrase after long days of learning how to ride dragons... "Be brave, Elariel" she would say. "Being brave is one of the boldest and scariest parts of living."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. General of The Songbirds

_  
_

_ The first thing she remembered was the cold…  _

_ The next thing she remembers, was running.  _

_ The third thing she remembers was fear.  _

_ And the last thing, what she still remembers today, was the anger. _

  


_She’d been running for a long time through the desert with her mother’s final words in the back of her mind, “ **I love you… Now run!** ” _

  


_ Her mother didn’t have to tell her why, nor did she have to shout where to run to. The elleth knew. Why she had to run; she knew from the warnings her mother whispered in her ear when her father’s people started looking at her differently. _

_ Where to run to; the Blue Wizards. _

_  
_

* * *

_ _

  


“Something stirs in the East… The stars are veiled.” 

No sooner than Legolas had spoken these words did a mass of riders cloaked in black come galloping up the hills of Rohan from the East. His first instinct was to drive a few well guided arrows through their hearts; to him, they looked like Ringwraiths in the twilight. Before he could let one fly, Aragorn caught his arm and stilled his arrow. 

“Legolas, what sigil do your elf eyes see on their banner?” He squinted.  
“It looks like a triad of songbirds.” At this Aragorn seemed to relax.  
“Lower your arrow Legolas, they are friends.” He motioned for the elf prince to join him as he made his way towards the gates of the city.

Waiting for them were two riders grasping the reins of their horses, one holding the banner that Legolas had seen earlier. They were dressed strangely, in a fashion that spoke of their origins East of the Rhovanion. Each wore a loose black garment that appeared to combine both a shirt and trousers, cinched at the waist, and more or less concealing the shapes of their bodies, as well as a pair of worn leather boots. They also wore dark blue head scarves that covered their hair and the lower halves of their faces. The edges of the garment and headscarf were embroidered in a heavy gold thread in the designs of songbirds. Even though their modest clothing gave no indication of gender, from the way they moved, Legolas could tell they were women. The taller one with a dragon embroidered on her clothing came forward and greeted Aragorn in a language that he had never heard. He watched curiously at their interaction, as his friend never mentioned this strange woman prior. 

“They have met before.” Gandalf said as he came up behind the group. Legolas nodded. “They seem familiar with each other.”

“My Lords.” The woman finally said, in lightly accented Westron. Aragorn bowed. 

“Mithrandir, Legolas. This is Safira, general of the Songbirds.” Gandalf was surprised when her gaze turned towards him. Though her eyes were two different colors, one gold and one silver, it was the familiarity in this stranger that struck him. He’d seen those eyes in a thoughtful blue hue under the circlet of a Half-Elven Lord willing to sacrifice himself for the good of Middle Earth. He had seen them in shades of green that never lost hope, full of the light of the Evenstar. He’d seen them in the stormy grey of the Elven Prince standing beside him, who constantly fought to drive the shadow from Mirkwood. Eyes of the Eldar. 

"Welcome General, and a good evening to you.” He said, bowing.  _ She has a story, this elf from the East. _

“Greetings General Safira.” The elf Prince replied. Aragorn brought him forward. “This is Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Prince of the Woodland Realm.” Metal met metal as the woman’s eyes fell on him. He also caught the beginnings of a scar that ran from her temple downwards, fractured in shape and barely missing her golden eye.

“ _The honor is mine, Prince of Mirkwood._ ” She said, in lilted high Sindarin that Legolas almost recognized. He was astounded; this was an almost extinct tongue that even his father and advisors only used on formal occasions. It was what high lords and ladies in the courts of Doriath greeted each other with. To his shocked stare she returned only a bow, and a strange one at that. Rather than simply bowing at the waist with her hands at her sides or curtsying, she brought both hands in front of her. Her fist met her palm, and she bowed over low. It seemed far more respectful that the haphazard ones in the West. Gandalf only stroked his beard, registering no outward appearance of surprise. _Curious and curiouser,_ he thought.  


Reverting back to Westron, she said, “I go by Ara, and am a general only in formality.” Gandalf nodded in acknowledgement of her desire to go by another name. “I have brought ten thousand, camped just on the other side of the Rhovanion.” She continued, turning to Aragorn. “Though the number seems not large enough to turn the tides, each of my warriors has the skill of ten men.” Legolas sensed the pride behind this woman’s voice, though he still could not find an explanation as to why this general from the East could speak high Sindarin. “I will send my riders out on the morrow to gather the rest of our forces here, and I have others riding to tribes all across the desert, calling on old alliances. With any luck, you will have another twenty thousand at your command by the day of your invasion.”

“I have not the words to express my gratitude but,” he looked at Legolas and dropped his voice to almost a whisper “Why have you really come?” Legolas saw her glance at Aragorn in a way that was almost fond, then swallow. Hard. He heard her response loud and clear, with no room for argument. 

“You men of the West are not the only inhabitants of Middle Earth. We of the East have loved ones to fight for and lives to protect just like you. This is our fight too.”

_  
_

* * *

_ _

_  
_

For the rest of the evening, Legolas could not get his mind off of the woman who’d unexpectedly joined their fight today. 

Her knowledge of high Sindarin suggested she was an elf of noble birth. Humans were unable to wrap their tongues around the languages of the high elves, so she could not have been one. She could not have been a high born elf, but perhaps an unusually linguistically talented Avari from Dorwinion.

Even as an elf, everything about her was alien and strange. Most elleths wore long dresses that were cut broad and low, exposing their backs, shoulders, and declete. The most fair of them would be eager to show their faces, as elves were creatures that appreciated beauty. Ara revealed only her eyes, and even those were not common. Her eyes were the color of molten silver and gold, slightly tilted upward, and framed by long, dark lashes. From what he could see of her skin, it had been tanned by long hours in the sun. Elleths he knew back home took careful care to keep their snow-white colorings, as skin as dark as hers would seem "too rough, like a human's".

He wondered what the rest of her looked like.

Legolas lie awake that night as his companions slumbered, thinking of the general with the dual colored eyes.


	2. Morning Prayers

At daybreak, Legolas left his tent to go watch the sunrise, and was greeted by an unknown sight. The camp of the Songbirds was filled with women, all lined up facing the sun. At first they stood, then bowed at the waist, then kneeled and touched their heads on the ground. As he watched their different colored robes rippling in the early morning light, he felt as if they were praying. It was mesmerizing, seeing the women go through all the motions, almost as if they were one. The more he watched however, the more he felt like he was invading something sacred. He turned, and nearly ran into Aragorn.

  
“Morning Laegolas. It seems I have caught you unawares.”  
“I applaud you Aragorn. I was caught up in watching…” He trailed off, not knowing quite what to call what he’d been caught gawking at.  
“Ah those would be the-”  
“Morning prayers,” replied Ara as she came up behind them. “Most of my women follow the Setareh faith, faith of the Sun in your language. The 5 prayers follow the patterns of the sun.” Aragorn smiled at her and greeted her with a bow, which she returned.  
“Se...ta….reh” Legolas sounded out the syllables of the foreign word. They rolled off the tongue like water, much more pleasant than Westron. For his efforts he got what he thought was a smile, though her headscarf gave little indication.

  
“I don’t mean to pry General, but may I ask why you and your women cover your bodies the way you do?”  
“Not at all, Prince of Mirkwood. In our faith, the Sun is the most powerful entity; it provides light, warmth, and makes life possible in Arda. Covering up one’s body is a sign of humility, of submission to the Sun’s power.” Legolas nodded at her response, noting the uniqueness of her voice. Maidens he knew before had voices that were soft and high, while hers was much lower, fuller, and almost crackled. It wasn’t unpleasant at all; rather, it conjured up memories of bonfire nights and campfires with the seven. If fire could talk, he imagined it would sound like her.

  
“General, I was wondering if you would honor us by joining in at the war council” Aragorn interjected, “We need to move out soon.”  
“Of course.” She bowed to the elf and the man, leaving to attend to her soldiers.  
As he watched her leave, he noticed that Aragorn’s eyes also followed her movements before turning sharply away.  
“Come Laegolas, we should also get ready.”


End file.
